Broken

Chapter 17: A moment of vulnerability

Fatima, biting her lip—a nervous habit he's noticed before. "May I come in?" she asks, her voice softer than usual, almost vulnerable.

Zac nods, stepping aside to let her in. He glances down the hallway, ensuring no one noticed her arrival. The residents of Taylor Heights had not been particularly warm toward her, given the recent lawsuit and her reputation.

"No one saw me," she assures him as he shuts the door behind her. Zac turns to face her, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, though his eyes remain serious.

He watches her with a mixture of curiosity and concern as she glides around his apartment. Her presence feels both comforting and unsettling, a juxtaposition he's not used to. She seems out of place yet perfectly at home in his modest surroundings, a stark contrast to the luxurious lifestyle she's accustomed to.

"How did you know which apartment was mine?" he asks, genuinely curious. He hadn't exactly made his living arrangements public knowledge, especially given the circumstances.

Fatima smirks, her eyes wandering around the room. "The lady at the front desk. You guys need better security," she says nonchalantly, as if discussing the weather.

Zac raises an eyebrow, slightly defensive. "We don't have security because everyone here is trustworthy—"

"Are they?" Fatima interrupts, her tone challenging.

"Yes—" Zac begins, but she cuts him off.

"Really? Because all it took was five hundred dollars for her to share your apartment floor and number." She raises an eyebrow, her words laced with amusement and a hint of disdain.

Zac's jaw tightens, a mix of frustration and resignation washing over him. "Okay, that might need to be fixed—" he concedes, then pauses, looking at her intently. "What are you doing here?"

Fatima lets out a sigh, her shoulders slumping slightly. She shrugs, her gaze avoiding his for a moment before meeting his eyes again. "I don't know... I needed to clear my head... and being around you really helps put my mind at ease." Her voice is soft, almost hesitant. She traces her fingers over the black velvet blanket draped over his couch, a simple yet elegant touch in his otherwise minimalist apartment.

Zac's expression softens, but he can't help the skepticism in his voice. "So you're here to use me?" he raises his eyebrows, trying to read her intentions.

Fatima shrugs again, a small, humorless smile playing on her lips. "Maybe," she admits, her eyes flickering with a mix of emotions. "Or maybe I just needed to be somewhere I feel... safe."

The word hangs in the air between them, laden with meaning. Zac studies her for a moment, then walks over to the small kitchen area. He opens a cabinet and pulls out a bottle of wine and two glasses, pouring wine into both. He hands one to Fatima, who accepts it with a grateful nod.

As she takes a sip, Zac leans against the counter, arms crossed. "You know, I'm not exactly a fan of being someone's emotional crutch," he says, his tone half-serious, half-teasing.

Fatima sets the glass down on the counter, her eyes locked onto his. "I'm not asking you to be," she replies, her voice steady. "I just... I needed to see you. After everything that's happened, you're the only one who makes sense right now."

Zac's heart skips a beat at her words. There's a raw honesty in her voice that he hasn't heard before, a vulnerability she rarely shows. He takes a deep breath, running a hand through his hair.

"So, what happens now?" he asks, unsure of where they stand.

Fatima bites her lip again, clearly thinking. "I don't know," she admits. "I've never been good at this... at being open, vulnerable." She looks down at her hands, fidgeting slightly. "But I know that I don't want to go back to feeling alone."